


And Go Like This

by drowsyfantasy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bodyguard, Comedy, Dom/sub, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Power Dynamics, Romantic Comedy, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowsyfantasy/pseuds/drowsyfantasy
Summary: Ferdinand works in a club. Hubert does not need this level of added stress.But it's only fake-dating.For now.EDIT: bonus extra chapter!





	1. Chapter 1

The place was alive; he was barely so. 

It could hardly be called _ that_, he supposed, as he tried to make himself invisible on the bench-chair, nursing the glass he’d kept a quarter-full for the last forty-five minutes. There was only a mouthful or two left, but as long as he didn’t run empty, he wouldn’t be bothered. He kept his eye trained on his charge; the daughter and heir to an enormous business empire, out for a bachelorette party. One of her friends was getting married in a few days, and this...event...had taken him to a place where he was for once grateful that he was able to trade his watch off in shifts nowadays. 

Hubert sank lower in his seat and glanced briefly at his watch. Less than an hour until his relief came. 

Ever since she had graduated and started working for her father’s company full-time, training to take over upon his retirement, Edelgard had insisted upon taking on more bodyguards, and Hubert, though angry at first, had finally come to appreciate having a day or two off now and again. He was still the first one she came to, but tonight, in the all-male strip club, he sincerely wished he was not. 

He glanced at his watch again and cursed under his breath. _ Thirty seconds? Really? _

The noise of sudden cheering brought his attention and he snapped back up, focused again. Another dancer had emerged from the curtains, and Edelgard, fourth drink -_I should tell the bartender to cut her off now- _ in hand, was leaning over the side of the stage, cheering the loudest as he walked up the platform. 

Hubert grumbled to himself as he slid from the safety of his seat and edged his way through the tables, chairs, mini-stages and -_ is that a cage in the corner, good god- _drunken patrons, sliding beside Edelgard before she could make a fool of herself in public. 

“My lady,” he drew her back, elegant and poised, all his attention on her, plucking the glass from her hand, “where is Dorothea?” He knew _ very _well where all the ladies were, but the question was meant to divert his charge. 

“Um, over - over there, I think…” Good, she was turning away, neglecting her glass, and seemed to be heading back to the table where her friends were seated. With his back to the stage, he leaned against it, letting himself relax a little. The music was softer now, and the stress began to fade just a little-

The hands on his back made his shoulders jump to his ears, whirling with surprise and anger and embarrassment at getting caught off-guard (really? _ really?! _), glaring at the - the man. On the stage. 

On his hands and knees, millimetres from Hubert’s nose. 

He hadn’t noticed him when he was in the shadows near the curtains, his focus had been so laser-precise on Edelgard. He was young, his face and his form, and he had long, cinnamon-coloured hair down his back and over his shoulders. It went almost to his wrists, his fingers splayed out across the smooth wooden planks of the stage. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Hubert replied, staring him dead in the face. The man’s amber eyes blinked a pitiable expression before Hubert turned his back and made to walk away, only to be met by Edelgard, Dorothea, and two of their other friends. 

“We’ll take these,” Dorothea plucked the glasses out of both of his hands. “_Yoink_. I’m taking care of Edie; don’t worry, it’s water,” she winked at the annoyed Hubert, who saw indeed that Edelgard was sipping the clear fluid with a disappointed scowl. “Your second is here early. Why don’t you have some fun?” 

With a glance over her shoulder, he saw that it was true. Edelgard’s relatively-new bodyguard was here, and though he didn’t completely trust the other man yet, Dorothea hadn’t had more than one drink tonight, and had only Edelgard’s safety at heart. Sighing, Hubert closed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll bid you good night, then, Ms. Arnault.” 

Before he could move away from the stage, though, a pair of arms snaked around him - one over his shoulder, the other up from around his waist. “Aww, come on, you weren’t going to leave so soon, were you?”

It was that man again. The dancer. _ Why is he so persistent? I am _ not _ a customer here to see _him…

“Looks like you’re getting some attention tonight!” Dorothea teased him, as Hubert attempted to peel the dancer’s arms off his chest without looking at him. He glared at Dorothea, but she only beamed at him. She was the only one of Edelgard’s friends to not be a child of wealth, and the only one not to be completely not terrified of him. At all. 

He hated it. 

“Isn’t there supposed to be a no-touching rule?” Hubert growled, finally grabbing the man’s wrists and turning, dropping all emotion from his face and putting on his best _ don’t-even _look. The other day it had made a small child burst into spontaneous tears, and it had only partially been an accident. 

“Oh come on, honey, you can’t be _ that _ naive.” The dancer paused, though, and tugged at his hands, which were still held in Hubert’s firm grip. “Okay, okay, you can let go now…I _ do _have to finish my set.” 

_ Hard at work. _ Hubert released him, and the man slid back onto his feet, leaning back on the pole, beginning to move to the beat of the music. With his thoughts on going to the bar and confirming Edelgard would be cut off from anything that wasn’t water or soda, Hubert proceeded away from the stage and through the room, conversing with the servers for a moment. Convinced of the night’s safety, he asked for his coat and was about to leave when someone caught his wrist. 

_ If it’s that dancer again, I’m going to- _

It was Dorothea and Edelgard _ -oh no what now- _“I think he likes you!” Both girls were doing their best to drag him back towards the stage, much to his chagrin. “You should at least say goodnight!” 

“He doesn’t _ like _ me, he doesn’t _ like _ any of us, he’s _ working_. This is his _ job_.” Hubert let himself be led, only because both girls would pull a muscle in their shoulders if he remained immovable. 

“You’re such a sourpuss spoilsport! Have some fun!” 

“I stopped having fun when I was six.” He was pushed in front of the stage, and unfortunately, the dancer chose that precise moment to go from partially-naked to _ fully_-naked, the fact of which Hubert was only aware of due to being hit in the face with a thong. It rested across his nose for half a second, then slid to the stage floor, resting atop the back of one of his hands. 

“Hey, can I have those?” a man next to him grinned, and Hubert couldn’t turn off his death-stare in time. The stranger retreated quickly, leaving him with the scrap of fabric. Unsure of what to do with this unrequested gift, he picked it up and dumbly offered it back to the dancer, who was facing away from the pole as he slid up and down, grinding on display. 

“Oh, honey, why don’t you come to a private room where you can give those back to me?” the dancer cooed, and Hubert, annoyed, curled his hand into a fist around the bunched-up fabric and was about to just drop it when _ -oh no, don’t you dare- _ cash was thrust into his face from the side. 

“Ms. Arnault-”

“Oh, but Hubie, he’s been such a good sport, putting up with you! Go and pay the man!” 

Said man had vanished behind the curtains again, and Hubert grabbed the cash. Money in one hand, thong in the other, he stormed his way up the hall and swept into the room when one of the attendants offered him an open door. 

Inside was a surprisingly tasteful set of _ chaise lounges _and low tables with a full-length mirror and plush rugs. 

He wasn’t waiting a moment before the dancer slipped in through a second door, opposite the one he’d entered. _ A stage door, perhaps? _“These are for you,” he held out both hands at the same time. 

“Oh honey, you’re too much.” The dancer was beaming at him. Thankfully, he’d put on a short robe, a little thing of shimmering gold fabric. It covered just enough of him that Hubert didn’t have to avert his eyes for decency’s sake. “Shall I open another for you?” he sashayed his way across the room and lifted a still-sealed bottle of something alcoholic from a tray. 

“I just came to return your...costume...part.” Hubert hadn’t moved from his spot, though he did watch the dancer moving. He had an interesting sort-of rhythm to him, in the way his shoulders and hips went. “And to pay you for your services.” 

“But I haven’t serviced you yet.” the dancer was pouring him a glass. It was bubbly, and he held it out. “Go on, have a drink!” 

They appeared to be at an impasse. Good manners won out in the end, and Hubert placed the money and thong on the table, took the glass, and sat down to drink. “You don’t have to do anything else,” he reassured the dancer. “I’m not here for you.” 

“I’ve never been so insulted in all my life,” came the reply, with a pout and the sudden warm weight of the man on his legs. Hubert was forced back against the low cushions and did his best to keep from spilling his drink as the dancer leaned against his chest, purring like a kitten. The gold short-robe had fallen open, exposing his chest to his waist. 

“If you’re looking for more tips, I told you, _ I’m not here for you_. I suggest you go back and find one of your other patrons.” Hubert insisted, as politely as he could. He took another sip of his drink. The bubbles tickled his nose and he wrinkled it, looking down at the grinning dancer in his lap. “Why did you pick me, anyway?” 

“You looked interesting, honey.” the dancer slid his arms over Hubert’s shoulders and around his neck, fingers going up and petting at the soft hair on the back of his head. “And _ so _stressed out. You should relax! You’re in a place to have fun!” 

“I’m here - was here - as a bodyguard, not a patron.” Hubert pointed out, watching and feeling as the dancer moved against him. He was warm, his skin against the fabric of Hubert’s clothes making soft scratching noises. _ Surely that can’t be comfortable_. “You really don’t have to, you know.” 

“I want to.” the dancer paused and met his eyes for a moment. “If you seriously want me to stop, you can tell me to stop. A lot of guys come in like you, they like to pretend they’re straight, it’s part of the game for them, to be seduced by a pretty young thing. But if that’s not you, you can tell me, and I’ll let you go.” 

Hubert’s lips parted, but the words died before they could reach the air. For the last twenty years he’d been in service, he hadn’t really thought about his own needs and wants, more than the basics - eating, sleeping, functioning at his peak when he was on guard. _ Am I straight? _He had to admit he really didn’t know. 

_ Be selfish for once in your life_. He downed the rest of the glass, letting it roll onto the table and looked the dancer in the eye.

“Convince me.” 

“Oh honey,” the dancer cooed, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, “you just said the magic words.” 

He was being kissed. _ Kissed_. The dancer’s lips were soft and warm against his own, and he went back and forth between _ is this legal? _ and _ is this what I’ve been missing? _Letting himself be taken in, enjoying it, but keeping his hands firmly on the chaise at his sides, just in case. He let the dancer lead, going with it, moving with him, getting a feel for kissing another man. 

They went on for a few more delicious moments before they were interrupted by a rapid-fire knocking at the outer door. The dancer huffed in an annoyed sort-of way, retreating. “Something must’ve happened. Hold on.” 

Hubert was left cooling on the chaise for a moment, staring into the middle distance, his lips still tingling from the memory of the kiss. There was some mild arguing behind him, half of which he didn’t hear, before the dancer came back to him, sighing. 

“Sorry, we have to cut this short.” he apologized, doing up his robe. He looked supremely annoyed, his cheeks flushed with anger. 

Hubert shook his head, rising to his feet. “It’s fine. Thank you. Have a good night.” he managed, and, tugging his coat on, turning up the collar against the cold night outside. Something on the dancer’s face made him pause, though. “Is everything...all right?” 

“No,” the dancer said, turning his back and walking to the inner doorway he’d come from, “no, it’s not, but it’s _ fine_. Have a good night.” He closed the door behind him, and Hubert was left blinking in the private room. 

Shrugging, he gathered himself up, and walked from the room. The partying in the front was still in full swing and Hubert managed to get through without much pushing and shoving, standing just outside for a moment to adjust to the winter’s chill. 

“-no, you _ don’t _fucking get to tell me what to do, you stupid-” His ears perked up at the noise of a scuffle, and, darting down the side of the building, Hubert caught the ham fist of a man before it landed a blow on the cinnamon dancer from the inside. He wasn’t dressed at all like the security staff of the club, and his ratty jeans smelled like all manner of things, none of them pleasant. “Oh! Hubie!” 

_ Dorothea, don’t call me that. _Too late. It was apparently his name now. “Is he causing you trouble?” Hubert turned his most terrifying glare at the angry man in his grasp, who nearly peed himself at the sudden intruder. “Should I call for security, or remove him myself?” 

The dancer seemed gleeful. “Oh, you’re such a wonderful boyfriend, Hubie! This is that terrible ex I was telling you about the other day! Don’t kill him, please!” he blew a kiss. 

_ Ohhhh, no. Oh no no no no. _Before he could point out the lie, the man wriggled out of his grasp and bolted away down the alley towards the street. The dancer beamed at him. 

“I’m not your boyfriend.” 

“Oh, he doesn’t know that.” 

Hubert glanced over his shoulder, then back at the dancer. His shoulders sank as he realized the man would be back if he walked away now. 

“Are we dating now?” 

“Fake it till you make it!” came the cheerful reply. “Oh, I’m Ferdie. Ferdinand. Just in case it comes up, _ Hubie_.” 

Hubert gathered himself, taking a breath. “It’s Hubert. Hubert _ von Vestra_.” he finished his full name. “_Just in case it comes up_.” 

“You are just a joy, _ Hubie_, I can’t _ wait _to introduce you to my parents!” 

“Now hold on just a _ minute_-!”


	2. Chapter 2

Hubert glanced at his watch again. Ferdinand - _ Ferdie _\- had gone back inside to grab a few more things and put his clothes back on. He’d been hauled out into the winter weather in nothing but a (substantially longer and warmer than the gold thing he’d been wearing inside) dressing robe, but it was still not built for the season. He’d had some trouble with the security guard at the back, but turning on his death-stare had helped. 

That, or Ferdie’s _ unrelentingly _cheerful demeanor. That man could not possibly be real. 

“-and good-night, Felix, give Sylvain a kiss for me.” 

“I’m not as generous with my mouth as you are, Ferdinand.” 

Hubert watched the exchange between the dancer and the guard, feeling the wind blow cold at his back. Finally, Ferdinand let the door close behind him, coming up and slipping his arm through Hubert’s. He looked a sight better than before - dark slim-leg jeans and big winter boots, with a long, puffy coat that went down to his knees. He appeared to be wearing woolen mittens with a matching scarf and hat- 

“Those look home-made,” Hubert observed, as Ferdinand began to lead him out of the alley. “Did you knit those?” 

“No,” Ferdinand admitted, “my mother made them for me.” 

“That’s actually very touching. So she approves of this career choice?” 

“Well, yes and no.” there was a pause. “She knows - they know - my parents - they know I work at my friend’s club. I told them I tend bar.” 

“To account for the tips.” It would make sense. Unless it served him some advantage, he wouldn’t be exposing that. 

“But enough about me, darling, what do you do?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m a bodyguard for the von Hresvelg family.” He didn’t have to tell the truth, but he could snap this man in half if he so chose, and the half-bottle of champagne along with the earlier hard liquor had made him a little less constrained. 

“Don’t they run that big multi-million- oh, that must be exciting!” 

“Not as much as it used to be.” Hubert shrugged. “Where are we going, anyway?” 

“Back to my place.” 

“Right.” He let Ferdinand continue to lead, and to chatter on and on, listening as carefully as he could against the wind. Finally, they came to a surprisingly nice apartment complex, and Ferdinand produced a key fob, tapping it against a metal pole. With a soft _ click _, the door’s metallic lock opened and they pushed inside. 

Warmth and soft Bach greeted them inside, and Hubert released Ferdinand’s arm to undo his coat, letting it hang on his shoulders. “You live here?” This was too much for a stripper’s...dancer’s salary, even if he had a lot of tips.” 

“My parents paid for my apartment while I was in school and I convinced them to keep paying it. Can’t afford it on a bartender’s wages, after all.” a lavish wink as he walked to the elevators. 

Hubert frowned, then followed. “What’s your full name?” 

“Ferdinand von Aegir.” the dancer tossed the snow out of his hair with a swish, and Hubert stopped dead in the threshold between the building and elevator. It made an annoyed noise, and Ferdinand pulled him fully inside. 

“The former Prime Minister.” The money, the good grooming, the immaculate apartment complex. _ He knows what his son is doing and he can’t afford to have it be public knowledge_. He had to play this _ very _carefully. “I can’t double up on my bodyguard hours; I can’t be both yours and hers.” 

“Silly, I don’t need a bodyguard, I need a steady boyfriend.” 

“One who’s not going to expose you.” 

Ferdinand tapped a finger on the side of his nose. Hubert rumpled a bit in his coat, but the elevator _ ding’_ed and they stepped off. After being led down a hallway, they entered the door on the end. 

Ferdinand bustled off into the kitchen area while Hubert took his coat off, hanging it up in the hall closet. The door slid shut on soft runners, showing himself in the full-length mirror. Turning, he began to inspect the apartment. 

It was comfortable, very plush, but not obnoxious. The furniture was formal and overstuffed, with hardwood floors and soft rugs. Hubert inspected a painting opposite the balcony when Ferdinand came back with a tray. 

“Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee.” He sat, waiting as Ferdinand poured him a cup. “So.”

“So.” Ferdinand lifted the lid of his teapot and poured a cup of the steaming liquid, settling down next to him. 

Hubert pulled out his phone, tapping open the notepad function. “How long have we been dating? How and where and why did we meet? Whom should we introduce each other to? Do we live together? Do we-“

“Oh my goodness, is this a first date or is this an interrogation session?” Ferdinand moaned, leaning back in the cushion of the couch. “Can’t we talk later?” 

“Talking is best now.” Hubert was tapping away in his emails with one hand, coffee in the other. He didn’t look up from the screen. “To have all the basics established.”

“Oh, you want to get it all out of the way so that we can have sex later, don’t you?” Ferdinand nudged his side. 

Hubert shot him a sideways glance. “If we’re fake-dating does that mean we’re fake-fucking?”

Ferdinand made a shrill noise and went red, nearly choking on his mouthful of tea. “God don’t say it like that!!”

“This is a working relationship, no different from a business transaction.”

“Except that I’m not paying you money to be my bodyguard.” Ferdinand put down his teacup, humming softly. “There must be _ something _you’ll want in return.”

“Would it be too much to ask you to keep the fake-sex part fake?”

“You liked it when I kissed you!!”

Hubert took a long drink of his coffee. It wasn’t bad. The roast was rich and dark and bitter. Just how he enjoyed it. “We have known each other and been dating for four months,” he began, tapping away at the notepad in his phone. “We met at the gala opening. I know your father was there. I was there with the von Hresvelgs. It was...love...at...first...sight,” he narrated his typing out loud. “We haven’t yet moved in together.”

“Oh my god, are you writing a press release?” Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “Put down the damned phone and look at me!” 

Hubert silently laid the phone down on the table and stared Ferdinand directly in the eyes. 

“Umm...you know what, let’s keep working on that backstory.” He sipped his tea again and Hubert smirked as he picked up his phone again. 

“You’re awfully proud of your ability to scare people, aren’t you?” He could tell Ferdinand was pouting, from the way his voice sounded. 

“I am, in fact. It’s one of my better qualities.” He was tapping away on his phone again. “Now then. Basics. Birth date. Age. Favourite foods, drinks, hobbies, movies, and art. Go.”

“Uhhhh...April 30, I’m twenty-six, I like sweet things, a good steak, herbal and fruit teas, umm, photography, horseback riding, I’m a fan of silent film and expressionism, and the Romantic-era composers uhhh...favourite colour is blue.” He finally added. 

“See? You’re catching on.” Hubert smirked again, already noting everything down. “As for me...are you taking notes? April 17, twenty-nine years old, dark coffees and old books, and while I’ll have some toffee and chocolate I’m not fond of many sweet things. I think we’ll get along well in terms of art and music, and despite your...career choice, we seem to have that in common.” Hubert pointed out. “I don’t have a favourite colour.”

“We have very close birthdays, that’s sort of nice.” Ferdinand mused. Then he clapped his hands together. “Oooh! That means you’re turning the big three-“

“Finish that sentence and I will garrotte you with your own hair.” Hubert cut in as calmly as he could. 

“Wow, somebody is tetchy about being thirty.” 

“It’s not the age, it’s the way you were saying it.” 

“You’re so fussy. My goodness.” Ferdinand poured another cup of tea. “You remind me of my father that way. So prim and proper and precise.”

“Your father led our country.” Hubert pointed out. “He had to be. Just don’t call me ‘daddy’.”

Ferdinand spat his tea out again. Hubert smirked. “Hmm. Interesting reaction.”

“Ugh! You’re so frustrating! I know I pushed you into this but you don’t have to tease me!”

“Tease you? I guess we’re discussing your kinks now? I don’t think I need to know those, but I can gues them.” Hubert counted on his fingers while Ferdinand spluttered in protest. “You’re probably quite the little deviant. I bet you want a father-figure to pull your hair, force you to gag on his cock, your favourite position is getting fucked from behind while face-down in the pillows like a dog. Oh, and you probably want to be tied up and teased until you cry.” 

“Th-that’s an awful lot of graphic sexual acts for someone who just finished saying they don’t want sex in this fake relationship!” Ferdinand squealed, an awful shade of red-pink that clashed wildly with his hair. 

Hubert glanced over at him. “You’re still hard, though.” 

That just set Ferdinand off again and Hubert helped himself to more coffee. “...ugh.” He finished. “You’re going to be the worst fake-boyfriend ever.” 

“Is this our first fake-fight?”

“Yes.” Ferdinand pouted, crossing his arms and legs petulantly and turning his head away. Hubert almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

“May I offer you a fake apology?”

“I’d appreciate a more sincere one.” Ferdinand huffed. 

Hubert considered. “But seeing you flustered like that is quite amusing. You have such strong reactions to things.”

“Oh, you say that as though you’re not provoking me with every second word out of your mouth.” 

“_Naughty boys like you don’t deserve apologies,_” Hubert purred into Ferdinand’s ear, and the dancer absolutely melted, much to Hubert’s amusement. This was the best form of entertainment ever. “I should put you over my knee and make you sorry for your impudence.”

Ferdinand was the picture of sick arousal: shaking, trembling, eyes and mouth wide open. Hubert almost reconsidered, seeing the intensity there. But he charged ahead anyway, curious to see how far he could take this. After all, if they weren’t really in a relationship then it didn’t have to have consequences, right? “Come here.” 

He grabbed Ferdinand by the scruff of his neck and pulled him down, face-down over his lap, his cinnamon hair spilling over his shoulders. Ferdinand squirmed but didn’t protest, and Hubert found his hand rubbing over the small of the other man’s back before raising it high in the air. 

“Oh, I should ask-“ he stated calmly, as if intoning the weather, “-you _ do _want this, right?”

“_Please_!” Ferdinand wailed. 

Hubert brought his hand down with a satisfying _ smack,_ and Ferdinand howled, writhing in his lap. Seeing and feeling him wriggle like that made Hubert a little dizzy with power, and he raised his hand again. “I want you to count them out loud. Do you understand?” He inquired, more breathless than he meant to be. 

“Yes, yes!”

He brought his hand down and Ferdinand cried out, then moaned “Two…” and Hubert continued, getting to a fourth spank before his palm started to feel irritated from the denim. 

“Get these off,” he pushed Ferdinand out of his lap and watched calmly as the dancer hurriedly shucked off all his clothing and crawled back into his former position. With his jeans and shirt gone, it was easy to see he was an all-over blusher and how hard he was. While Hubert had no real current interest in Ferdinand’s cock, it wasn’t an unwelcome sight - instead it felt like a trophy he’d won - and the next _ whack _was more intense, making the dancer cry even louder as he counted them out. 

“Please, please, _ please…_!” Ferdinand wailed after he counted the tenth, a damp patch left on Hubert’s trousers from where Ferdinand was dripping on him. 

“Please what? Want me to stop?” Hubert stroked tenderly over the angry red marks on Ferdinand’s ass, listening to the whimpering. 

“Nuh, no, I’m so close!” He was squirming helplessly, and so Hubert pushed Ferdinand onto his back and reached out, closing his palm around another man’s cock for the first time. 

It was a little strange, to be sure. He’d had sexual encounters before, but always with women, and never this intense. But he’d certainly finished himself off before, and this was effectively the same thing. Hubert watched Ferdinand’s face as he jacked him off, amused and fascinated by the power he wielded. 

When he was finished, Ferdinand was shaking so badly that Hubert had to help him clean up with some napkins from the tea-tray. As soon as he was clean, Ferdinand was clinging to Hubert, wrapped half-around him. 

He was still trembling. “Are you all right?” Hubert inquired, looking down at the shivering cinnamon attached like a limpet to his side. 

“Y-yes? I think so.” 

Hubert gently reached up with his free hand and began to pet Ferdinand’s hair a little, soothing him as he would with a nervous animal. It seemed to work, and the shaking slowly ceased, but he didn’t let go.

“I can’t sleep here tonight,” Hubert pointed out. “And I’ll be busy for the next few days with my duties. But I’ll give you my contact information and as long as you _ behave _yourself, you’re welcome to come along. I don’t have a plus-one for any of the events, and there’s plenty of free food if you stay out of my way.” 

“Oh, so cold. You can’t even do me the dignity of a good-night kiss?”

“We are fake-dating.” 

“Oh, you impossible man. At least carry me to bed.”

Hubert rose to his feet and swept Ferdinand up in his arms, bridal-style. Ferdinand yelped and clutched at him for support. “Where’s your bedroom, then?”

“Oh! Over there,” he gestured, and Hubert went. 


	3. Chapter 3

Once he was satisfied that Ferdinand had passed out and was snoring in his bed, Hubert began to walk the apartment. It _ was _nice, nicer than his own, which he was basically just using for storage at this point since he spent most of his time with Edelgard. Ever since Byleth had been hired, though, and the others (but mostly Byleth, as Edelgard seemed to favour them), he’d spent more and more time not having to trail her like a shadow. 

Depending on how far Ferdinand needed to take this ruse, it wouldn’t be too bad, to move in here and live with him. 

Hubert picked up a book that had fallen from the shelf and replaced it where it seemed to go, between two similar hardcovers. When he noticed the title on the spine, he pulled out out again quickly, letting the fabric-bound cover fall open to the publisher’s page. It was a book he’d been looking to read, and it was a first edition. Intrigued, Hubert pulled out each book in turn from the shelf and inspected them. They were all rare, beautifully-preserved first editions, and none were dusty; clearly Ferdinand cherished them and read them often. _ Why would a man of such class even consider a career change like this_? Even if it was no tremendous leap to assume that Ferdinand had an exhibitionist streak a mile wide, he still had to make that active choice and keep going. 

He certainly didn’t lack for confidence. Yet he seemed to have a terrible taste in men, choosing those who could snap him like a toothpick. At least Hubert had no reason to do so, except if Ferdinand tried to harm someone in Hubert’s charge. 

Hubert walked over to a writing desk, pulling open drawers until he found a pen and a pad of paper, writing down his contact information and general schedule, as well as the schedule for the pre-wedding events in the coming days. Ferdinand cleaned up beautifully, and would make an excellent plus-one. He just had to practise discretion about...ah. 

Hubert put down the pen. The girls had all seen him at the club. How could he be so foolish? Of course one of them would speak out. He gritted his teeth and cursed himself, about to tear the paper out and leave-

“Hubie?”

He started, cursing again as he turned. Ferdinand was leaning in the doorway, rubbing one of his eyes like a sleepy toddler. 

“What is it? Go back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep…”

“Nonsense. You were asleep a moment ago.”

Ferdinand’s head drooped, his hair forming a curtain between them. “I was having...the strangest dream.” 

There was a moment of soft silence. _ No. I can’t just leave him like this. Look at him. _“It’s fine.” Hubert nodded, putting the paper down and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I was just about to send a message to my employers that I’ll see them tomorrow. I don’t want them to be concerned when I don’t return tonight.” He tapped away on his phone, but he could see Ferdinand’s smile out of the corner of his eye, tired and relieved. 

Hubert put his phone down, walking to Ferdinand’s waiting arms, and took him back to bed. 

He stared at the ceiling for a while, clad only in his underwear under the blankets, while Ferdinand slumbered gently against him. The snoring wasn’t there as long as he slept on his side, and he was so warm, and surprisingly soft. The position of Ferdinand’s elbow was uncomfortable in his sternum, so he tugged him a little closer, and the small noise that escaped the sleeping man was not altogether unpleasant. In fact, it was almost...nice. 

He _ almost _liked this.

During his childhood, Hubert had never really given much thought to getting married. As most little kids were, he had both puppy-love crushes and was repulsed by the same people within any given week. When he had become a teenager, he was too busy with his studies and training, focusing on his future with the von Hresvelgs. He just sort-of assumed that one day he’d be married and have children, he supposed, but whenever he closed his eyes and thought about it, he was just standing next to some generic woman with her face obscured, and two kids chasing a dog around their legs. 

The imagined sight made him cringe a little. 

Hubert let his mind spiral out further. He’d remembered how it felt as a child to be pulled towards someone, to feel that yearning, but he hadn’t felt anything even remotely like that since then. Was he just not built to experience romantic desire? Or was it so suppressed by his lifestyle and training that he just hadn’t let himself have it? 

Ferdinand murmured something and hugged Hubert a little tighter in his sleep, and he cast his glance down to the young man snuggled against him under the blanket. For now, he supposed, it was nice to be close to someone, even if it was just pretending. 

The next thing he knew, some alarm was going off, and he was waking up. Ferdinand was squirming and protesting against him, trying to silence the alarm by reaching over and batting at it blindly, nearly smacking Hubert in the face until he sat up and figure out how to turn it off. The numbers wrote out that it was seven in the morning, a surprisingly reasonable time. 

Ferdinand, unsurprisingly, seemed disappointed when Hubert slipped from the bed altogether, stretching and padding off towards the bathroom he’d seen in the hallway. The next part of his shift-work started at ten, so he had time to wash and get dressed and grab something to eat first. Towels were folded on a rack above the toilet, and he borrowed some of the supplies in the stall, showering as efficiently as possible. 

Ferdinand was waiting for him in the kitchen area when he emerged, fully dressed and ready to go. “Sorry about having to do the Walk of Shame,” Ferdinand pursed his lips, pouring him a cup of coffee and gesturing to the stove. “I’m making eggs and toast, would you like some?” 

“Yes, I would. Thank you,” Hubert added, somewhat surprised at the act of generosity. Perhaps he could- “Oh, I was wondering. I saw a book on your shelf I’ve been meaning to read. Would you allow me to borrow it for a while?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t let them leave the apartment. No offence, I mean I’m sure you’d take care of it as best you could - but they’re in such good condition because they’ve never seen rain or snow and well, it’s winter outside.” Ferdinand shifted, pouting as he took a jar off a rack and added a few pinches to the pan. “I just couldn’t bear it if something happened.” He tugged his enormous, over-sized, fluffy bath robe a little bit closer. 

“That’s fine, then.” Hubert drank his coffee, waiting patiently for the food. It smelled appetizing, and Ferdinand continued to surprise him like this. “It just gives me another reason to move in.” 

Ferdinand nearly dropped the frying pan, jerking around with a muffled yelp and wild eyes. “Y-you’d do that?” 

“We’re in a very committed fake-relationship,” Hubert nodded sagely, swirling the coffee around in the bottom of his mug before finishing it. “And I’m guessing it’s not just former ex-boyfriends you’re trying to convince…” 

Ferdinand shifted on his feet, bringing the coffee pot over again, pouring as Hubert held out his empty. “How is it you can see right through me? My parents want me to grow up and get a _ real _ job and _ settle down_, and I told them, I just can’t! I love what I do! I love dancing so much, and I mean, I just fall in love so easily that forcing myself to be monogamous and get married would just be, oh, poison!” 

“They haven’t asked for grandchildren, I presume?” 

“Thankfully.” Ferdinand sighed again, returning to his frying pan. He began sliding the contents onto a couple of plates and coming back to the kitchen island where Hubert was seated. “Here you go. No, I’ve never wanted children and I don’t know how to handle kids. You?” 

_ Two kids with blurry faces chasing a dog around his legs, full of sound and fury_. “No,” Hubert shook his head, beginning to eat. “Though I’m not averse to getting married. It’s more that...if it happens, it happens. I don’t really care one way or the other.” 

“Sounds lonely to me.” Ferdinand picked at his food, a little less enthusiastically than Hubert would have expected for something so delicious. Maybe if he ate it every day it would be less tasty, but right now, he couldn’t help but enjoy it. “I like - I want - I _ need _to be surrounded by people who want me, who desire me…” 

“Which explains the train of overly-obsessed, possessive boyfriends.” Hubert pointed out. Ferdinand glared at him but said nothing. “Your problem is picking people who are _ already _seeing you as nothing but a machine they put money into and sex comes out.”

“You’re a fine relationship counselor.” Ferdinand said thinly, but his shoulders relaxed a little. 

“At least with _ this _relationship,” Hubert gestured between the two of them with his fork, “I don’t see you like that.”

“Fair,” Ferdinand scrunched up his face, as though he were trying to settle his stomach. “But what are _ you _getting out of this?” 

“A pleasant distraction,” Hubert admitted after a moment of contemplation. “You continue to surprise me with each passing moment. Had we met at the Gala four months ago, we might have actually become true friends.” 

Ferdinand put his head in his hands on the counter-top and Hubert glanced over at him, finishing up the last of his breakfast. “I don’t work as late tonight. Are you in the club dancing every night of the week? Do you want me to come by and pick you up after your shifts end? I won’t be able to adjust my schedule around you, especially for the upcoming week, since the wedding is in four days. Do you have something you can wear?” 

“Yes, I have some nice suits.” Ferdinand muttered into his hands, keeping his face hidden. “And no, I don’t work there every day. You left your phone number, right? I’ll text you my schedule. It varies.” 

“Good. The rehearsal dinner is Friday at five, and runs until eight. The ceremony itself is Saturday afternoon, though I’ll pick you up around eleven. Will you be able to make it for that?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Hubert took the plate and brought it to the sink, but Ferdinand stood up and came to his side. 

“Ah, I have a machine that does that. It’s fine. Over here.” he gestured, and Hubert noticed that the dancer’s eyes looked watery as they loaded the dishwasher, but he didn’t probe. It was none of his business. “I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

“See you tonight.” Hubert nodded, gathering up his things. His phone had about half its charge left, and he made a mental note to buy another spare battery for it. 

Ferdinand met him in the doorway, clutching the top of his robe shut, looking up at him. “Have a good day at work. I’ll text you…?” he said, almost hopeful, smiling a little. 

“Thank you.” Hubert nodded politely, turning sideways to get past him - but the expression on Ferdinand’s face was so hurt that he just had to stop. “What is it?” 

Ferdinand came up, resting his palms on Hubert’s chest just below his shoulders, leaned in on his tip-toes, and kissed his mouth. Hubert permitted this, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other coming up to gently support Ferdinand’s lower back and keep him steady. No point in him falling over and injuring himself before he even started his day. 

His lips were so, so warm. 

Hubert felt them all day, even against the cold December winds.


	4. Chapter 4

The club didn’t feel quite so bad tonight. 

Hubert even sat at the bar for a while, observing some of the other patrons and dancers. Ferdinand said his session was over around 2 am, so once Hubert had finished with Edelgard earlier that evening, he’d gone to his own apartment and taken a nap, arriving at the club with less than an hour to go. 

He checked his phone. The texts had come throughout the day from Ferdinand, and were peppered with emojis for emphasis. Still, though, it wasn’t overall a bad time. 

“Sorry, it’s Hubert, right?” it was the same black-haired security guard from last night. He was wearing a light navy cable-knit sweater and black jeans. “Ferdinand tells me you’re his new…”primary handler”. His words, not mine.” 

“Well, he’s not wrong. Can I help you?” Hubert inquired. 

“If you’re not interested in blowing out your eardrums with the noise levels in here, you can actually just wait for him in the staff security room.” he gestured over his shoulder. “On nights when you come to pick him up, you can just come around to the back. I’m usually there, and I’ll let you in.”

“Please, lead the way.” 

They walked through the crowds to the back hallway again, but instead of turning left, they went right. There was a heavy door at the end of the hall with a security keypad. The guard let them in, and Hubert blinked when he got inside. 

There was a pod of several TV screens against a wall, with camera feeds facing the floor of the main club, and security cams for each of the private rooms. Hubert looked away quickly when it was clear a private room was being used for...private matters. 

“Is this...legal?” he blurted out. 

“It’s just for our dancer’s security.” the other person sitting in front of the cameras turned around. His short white hair was tied back in a ponytail, a stark contrast against his darker skin. “The footage is live, but gets erased after 24 hours if we don’t pull it for the police.”

“We have to protect our staff and business. Places get shut down for less.” 

“Understandable.” Hubert looked around the rest of the room. There were two vending machines against a wall, some cabinets, a coffeemaker and a double-sized industrial dishwasher. “You have another dishwasher back here? I saw one behind the bar…” 

“We don’t wash dishes in that.” The black-haired security guard was settling into his chair again, eyes flicking from screen to screen. 

“It’s too big for just the cups you use back here…” 

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” 

“Felix, that is extremely-” 

Hubert had already unlatched the door and pulled it open. 

Dozens upon dozens of specialized equipment pieces, metal and glass and some brightly-coloured objects he _ didn’t _recognize - and some he did - were resting in the trays. He very quickly shut the door and went back to the couch, sitting down and staring at the floor. 

“It’s the most efficient way to clean them,” Felix was saying, Hubert could hear him off to his right. “It has a sanitize function, great for killing bacteria.”

“They still have to be hand-washed first,” the other guard clarified, as if Hubert had asked. Hubert did not want to know. “But this also helps ensure the safety of our staff and our clients.” 

Hubert paused. “Does...does Ferdinand…” 

Both guards were silent for a moment. 

“Yes.” Felix admitted. Then there was just the noise of clicking and typing, and the hum of the monitors. 

It shouldn’t have bothered him. Hubert put his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling above where he sat on the couch. He wasn’t in a _ real _ relationship with Ferdinand, after all. They weren’t _ actually _ boyfriends. His concern was simply for Ferdinand’s health, then, it must be. Making sure he was safe. And for his own - though it would be difficult to transmit any sort of illness through spanking and a handjob, he still didn’t want to put his _ real _clients - the von Hresvelgs - at risk. 

He pulled out his phone and made a note for himself to schedule a screening in the next few weeks. 

“Ah, there he is.” Felix gestured to one of the screens. “Looks like he’s on his way here. Safe home, you two.” 

“Thank you.” Hubert stood up, heading for the door. Outside, Ferdinand looked surprised to see him come out of the security lounge. 

“Oh!” he brightened at the sight, though, smiling and rushing over, putting a hand on Hubert’s arm. He hadn’t yet washed off his make-up, and he was simply covered in gold glitter-gel. “Hey, thank you for coming!” 

Hubert would very quickly be covered in glitter too, he assumed. “Of course. Are you ready to go?” he looked Ferdinand over. He had his jacket draped over one arm, but wasn’t wearing real pants. Instead, he appeared to be in cut-offs with lace underneath...and high-heeled pumps. “There’s two inches of snow on the ground, you can’t walk in those.” 

“Honey, you’d be surprised what I can walk in.” Still, when they got to the door and Ferdinand saw the piles, he sighed. “Okay, okay...we can call a cab.” 

They waited only a few minutes before it arrived, Ferdinand taking an awkward first few steps, pouting, until Hubert sighed, swept the other man up in his arms, and carried him over the snow to the back of the cab.

“You’re so sweet!” Ferdinand had his arms around Hubert’s neck and kissed his cheek. 

“I assume that’s why you keep calling me ‘honey’...” Hubert opened the cab door and pushed Ferdinand in. 

The dancer laughed, sliding over and doing up his seatbelt. “Did you just make a joke? I can’t believe it!” 

“Should it be so difficult?” Hubert closed the cab door and did up his own belt, confirming the address with the driver. 

Ferdinand reached over and put his hand on top of Hubert’s. “I don’t know, should it?” 

“You’re going to get glitter all over the seat. I suggest you minimize contact with the things you touch until you can wash it off,” Hubert murmured under his breath, not wanting to annoy the cab driver. 

“From fun to no-fun in two point five seconds,” Ferdinand pouted, but he retreated, folding his hands demurely on his lap and crossing his legs at the ankle. He tapped snow off the bottom of one of his heels. “Honestly, Hubie, you’re harder to read than an ancient Sumerian manuscript.” 

“Good. Let it remain a mystery for all time.” he was watching the traffic and snow through the front window of the cab, carefully noting the hazards around them. “When we get home, I want you to show me what you intend to wear for the wedding.” 

“It’s only Wednesday, I hadn’t picked it out yet.” 

“You said you had a suit.” 

“I have several suits. Is there a theme?” 

“Let me just see them when we get there.” 

It didn’t take them too much longer to pull into the parking bay under the main entrance of the building, where Hubert paid the driver and walked with Ferdinand to the apartment. He pushed the younger man into the bathroom and told him not to come out until every speck of glitter was washed down the drain, and went to make himself some coffee. 

He was resting comfortably when Ferdinand emerged, a towel wrapped around his hair and one around his waist. “Do you want to inspect me?” he turned in a full spin, and Hubert just gave him a dead stare. But he was indeed glitter-free, so Hubert got up and walked with him to the bedroom. 

Ferdinand hung up the towels over a small rack and slipped into a long-sleeved nightshirt, soft and hanging to his knees, and pulled open the doors to a walk-in closet. From there, he and Hubert began browsing through his formal wear, finally settling on one that Hubert approved of. The combination of a midnight-blue suit jacket and pants, with a white shirt - and at Ferdinand’s insistence - a light-cream tie - was pleasing to the eye, and would suit the formal style indicated by Dorothea on her invites. 

As Hubert inspected the shirt for any seams that needed fixing, he could feel Ferdinand lean more and more heavily against his side. “Getting tired?”

“I’ve been dancing in heels for three hours,” Ferdinand pouted. “My calves are killing me.” 

Hubert felt himself smiling a little, and he hung the shirt up on its hanger once more. Turning, he scooped Ferdinand up and moved him out to the bed, laying him down. 

Ferdinand wouldn’t let go of his neck, though, and Hubert awkwardly settled beside him, still in all his clothes. “If you want me to spend the night again, you have to let me get changed,” Hubert pointed out, and Ferdinand sighed but relented, releasing him. 

Hubert took some time to fold his clothing and plug in his phone, settling all his personal effects on a chair in the bedroom next to the wall for easy access. Tonight in his bag he’d actually brought a comfortable, clean pair of sleep-pants, and after getting changed and putting out the lights, he crawled into bed beside the sleepy dancer. 

“I’m not..._ too_-too sleepy…” Ferdinand stifled a yawn, running a warm palm down Hubert’s chest, whining softly when Hubert stopped him. 

“I hadn’t wanted to discuss this with you barely conscious, but...when was your last sexual screening exam?” 

Ferdinand stiffened in his grasp, and his voice was cold in the darkness. “I have regular check-ups every three months, for your information. Are you asking me if I’m dirty?” 

“Not with what I saw in that dishwasher.” 

Ferdinand burst out laughing, completely relaxing, and when Hubert released his hand, he snuggled close, affectionate again. “Oh, you’re so silly. Is that what got you worried? I promise, we’re all very good little boys, we take good care of ourselves.” 

“Please never refer to yourself as a little boy ever again.” 

“Does that mean I can’t call you ‘Daddy’?” 

“Please never refer to me as Daddy ever again.” 

“Well, that answers _ that _question. Can I still call you ‘Hubie’?” 

“I don’t think I could stop you if I tried.” 

Ferdinand kissed his cheek, and Hubert sighed, allowing himself to relax. The mattress and pillows were as comfortable as he’d remembered from last night, easy to sink into. “Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“I want to have sex with a lot of men, honey.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Yes, I do.” Ferdinand’s slim fingers tucked some of Hubert’s hair behind his ear. “You’re handsome, cultured, strong; if I was the marrying type, I’d probably actually want to marry you.” 

“A shame then, that we’re only fake-dating.” 

There was a pause. Ferdinand’s voice was substantially less stable. “R-right, fake-dating, right.” His warm hands and body drew away from Hubert, and to his surprise, he missed them. “Well, anyway, thank you for picking me up tonight.”

“Of course.” He couldn’t roll over, couldn’t reach for him. This was what they wanted. It was just for a while, anyway. Just until he’d chased off the last of Ferdinand’s poisonous exes. Ferdinand had just admitted he wasn’t the marrying type, and with him freely talking about his polyamourous lifestyle earlier, it would be far too much for Hubert to fight for a place in his heart. 

Wait, fight? No. That wasn’t the point. None of this was the point. Hubert scrubbed at his face with his hand. Things were spinning in his head. _ I must be over-tired_. That had to be it. He was overthinking everything. This was just an act. They were acting. They were _ pretending_. Ferdinand was just upset because he’d insulted him earlier and he was still feeling the sting from that. Probably. 

He found his hands reaching out, sliding around Ferdinand’s middle, pulling the other man back against him, Ferdinand’s noise of surprise. 

“I’m cold,” Hubert breathed, nose pressed against the back of Ferdinand’s neck, beneath that wave of cinnamon hair. He smelled like flowers in springtime. _ Must be his shampoo_. 

“Oh,” said Ferdinand.


	5. Chapter 5

“Please pass the rolls. Thank you!” 

The rehearsal dinner was going surprisingly well. Hubert had had some reservations, but realized quickly that they had been completely misplaced, because Ferdinand conducted himself every inch the tactful, eloquent and well-mannered son of a politician he would’ve expected had he not met Ferdinand half-naked in a sex club. 

He did have to go around and talk to each of the bachelorette party attendees, and of them, only Dorothea remembered Ferdinand at all. The rest didn’t recognize him, and how lucky he was, was _ not _lost on Hubert. 

With his two biggest hurdles crossed, the next twenty-four hours should go by swimmingly. 

Ferdinand was happily picking away at his plated dinner - steak and a seasonal selection of vegetables - and engaged in polite conversation with the other people at their table. To Hubert’s supreme relief, he was sticking perfectly to the cover story the two of them had created, and if he had to deviate in any way, or clarify something, casually spoke _ just _a little bit louder - or kicked at Hubert under the table - to catch his attention and ensure they both were giving the same information. 

With security milling about, Hubert could enjoy his meal and not have to worry too much about Edelgard. She was seated with Dorothea at the head table, with that other bodyguard - Byleth - making his rounds. Hubert took the opportunity to listen to Ferdinand talking about his childhood, about growing up as the son of the Prime Minister, about his years of equestrian training, private tutors, violin lessons, and rubbing elbows with international elite. When someone asked a question about the two of them, though, Ferdinand merely put his hand on top of Hubert’s, beaming at her. 

The girl couldn’t see it across the table, though, that Ferdinand’s grip belied his ease. Hubert could feel the tension there, and gently patted it with his own other free hand. Ferdinand gave him a desperate look, and Hubert blinked slowly. 

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” he removed himself from the table, heading for the hallway that led away from the dining room and to the bathrooms, pushing inside the mens’ room and glaring at the only other patron there, who was washing his hands. 

“Get out,” Hubert snarled, and the man bolted, hands still dripping with soap and water. 

Less than a moment later, Ferdinand came through the door, wild-eyed and panting. 

“Calm down. You look like you’ve just run a marathon.” Hubert scolded him, and Ferdinand sobbed in a heaving breath. “You were fine a moment ago! What’s going on here?” 

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to keep lying like this!” 

“You’re part of a political family. I would’ve thought you’d be an expert at it.” 

“I am! I am, and that’s what I hate so much! I don’t like it! I don’t like deceiving people if I don’t have to!” 

“You are a grown man who works at a sex club and if that got out it would ruin your family. I think you and I both know the value of a good lie when we hear it.” 

“That’s not -” Ferdinand groaned, grabbing the lapels of Hubert’s light dinner jacket and pushing the top of his head into the other man’s chest. He sighed. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“Oh? What then?” 

“What _ then_?” Ferdinand echoed, mockingly, and Hubert could hear the sneer in his voice before he lifted his head and saw it. “What _ then_, really, what other _ colossal _lie are we telling all those lovely people just so I can have a free dinner? Think about this, Hubie!” 

Hubert just stared at him. 

“Ohhh! You are _ so _ thick-headed! We’re lying about being _ in a relationship_!” 

“But we _ are _in a relationship. It’s just not the one they think we are.” 

Ferdinand buried his face in Hubert’s chest and _ screamed_. Hubert stared down at him in surprise. The muffled noise went on and on until Ferdinand was out of breath. 

“If you don’t want to keep up this charade any longer, you’re free to go,” Hubert pointed out. “No one is making you stay. I can just tell them something’s come up and you could leave-” 

“I want to be in a relationship with you.” Ferdinand’s hands were fisted in his lapels, refusing to let go, even as he looked up. 

“We _ are _in a-” 

“NO! I want to be in a _ real _relationship with you! You’re lovely! You’re sophisticated and handsome and elegant and powerful and-” 

“Ferdinand. It has been. Three. Days.” Hubert plucked at his fists, tutting and shaking his head. “Three days, since we met. If you feel _ anything _ towards me it is _ infatuation_. I suggest you breathe and think about this with a level head-” 

“I’ve been in love enough times to know when I can feel it, thank you very much!” 

“Oh, as with all those other toxic men in your life that you asked me to protect you against? You fell in love with them? That’s hardly a standard for knowing whether or not love is real.” 

Ferdinand was shaking, tears in his eyes. “You are - so _ unbelievably _cruel,” he gasped, in between muffled, stifled sobs. 

“So what makes me different from all the other men? Why haven’t you run yet?” Hubert asked calmly. 

“Because you haven’t hit me.” 

Hubert was silent for a moment, then quietly raised a gloved hand to Ferdinand’s cheek, letting the fabric blot the tears there. “No one has the right to strike you. Ever.” 

Ferdinand turned his face away, sniffling, eyes closed. The glove fabric caught in his hair and he winced a little. “I know. I’m stupid. I mean- I mean I’m _ not _ stupid! I just...I don’t know. I want you. But I want you to want me.” He looked up at Hubert again, fingers still clenched tightly in the fabric of his jacket. “You read that book you’d been desperate to read in an hour, curled up with me on my couch last night, and you were petting my hair the whole time. We stayed up past three AM talking about Vivaldi’s guitar concertos. When you kissed me, it felt..it felt so real. I want you. I want that passion you have, I want it directed at _ me_.” 

“You’re surprisingly selfish for someone who claims to be poly,” Hubert glanced up when the bathroom door began to open, and hauled Ferdinand into the nearest bathroom stall, shutting the door. Luckily, the wooden slats went from floor to ceiling, and it would muffle their conversation as well as the sight of them. “I will say it again: _ you are infatuated with me_. It would be unhealthy and unwise to pursue a relationship with me based on the past few days, considering our wildly unbalanced power structure.” 

Ferdinand looked away for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, he shoved Hubert backwards, forcing him awkwardly to sit on the toilet. Hubert found himself with a hundred and sixty pounds of semi-formal suit, hair, and man in his face, arms around his neck, pressed back into the tiles. 

“Tell me you don’t want me,” Ferdinand breathed, face flushed and pupils blown. 

“Are you planning to sexually assault me in a public bathroom?” 

“_Tell me you don’t want me_.” 

“I want you,” Hubert met his gaze, stare for stare, “but we shouldn’t do this.” 

“But you _ do _want me.” Ferdinand seemed shocked. “You just said so. I can’t believe you just-”

“If you’re asking if I’m _ hard_, well, don’t climb in a man’s lap and grind into him and expect him not to react,” Hubert bit off, “not when he’s seen you do it _ naked _ before. But it would be _ exceedingly unwise _ to proceed with anything of that nature, _ especially _ here, _ especially _ now, at the _ rehearsal dinner _ to which _ you are not even an invited guest at_!” 

“Let me suck you off.” 

“No.” 

“I promise I’ll be quick about it.” 

“No.” 

“I want to taste your dick in my mouth-” 

“_No_.” Hubert slammed his fist into the tiled wall of the stall, the heel first, stinging a little but doing no damage. “For a sex worker, you have some odd ideas about what consent might look like.” 

There was a silent pause. Ferdinand sat in his lap, head down, eyes closed. Hubert considered. 

“You’re not a rapist. You’re just a spoiled brat.” 

Ferdinand’s head whipped around, glaring at him hotly. “I beg your pardon?!” 

“You’re spoiled. You’re used to getting everything you want. Power, money, men falling at your feet. You don’t actively want to harm anyone, you’re just so used to things coming to you that the challenge of having me _ not _bend to your every whim is making you react so strongly.” 

“Ugh. I hate you.” 

“See? See there. You were all sobbing and romantic not two minutes ago, and now you’re renouncing me.” 

“You are _ the worst _-”

Hubert was kissing him, gloved hands stroking back through Ferdinand’s hair, and Ferdinand melted against him, kissing him back, hot and deep and _ slick_. He could hear Ferdinand _ whimpering _ as the man shifted his hips, pressing down against him. They were both hard; an electric sizzle went up the back of Hubert’s spine as he rocked and rubbed, one of his hands leaving Ferdinand’s hair to slide down his back and pull them closer together. 

“I’ll give you,” Hubert managed to pull off and away, and _ fuck _but that tantalizing mouth was hard to separate himself from, “one more day. After the wedding, we can decide what we want to do. If you find that you can stand me that much, after all that, I’ll let you add me to your harem.” 

“Harem?” Ferdinand gasped, frantically grinding against Hubert, grabbing and straining at his back. “You’ll be lucky if I let you out of my bed for five-haaahh!” 

Hubert gripped him tightly as they both came awkwardly together, panting shakily and clutching at each other. He hadn’t cum in his pants like this since he was half his age and _ asleep_. “They’re probably wondering where we are.” 

“Oh, ah, right.” Ferdinand shuffled in his lap, turning and grabbing some toilet paper. “What should we tell them?” 

“I think we can tell the truth.” 

“That we made out in the bathroom like a couple of horny teenagers?” 

“They’ll either believe it, or they won’t.” 

Ferdinand’s laugh echoed softly in the stall, and Hubert felt a little lighter as they both cleaned up and headed back to their table, one arm firmly wrapped around Ferdinand's waist. 


	6. Chapter 6

He’d kissed Ferdinand good-night, holding him close, then headed off with Edelgard to Dorothea’s house, since the bridal party was gathering there and Byleth’s shift was over. Being the only adult male in a house full of semi-drunk women was amusing, to an extent, since his sexuality had suddenly gone from “mysterious, possibly straight, therefore embarrassing to be wandering around in front of while mostly-naked and having a slumber party” to “he’s not going to care, therefore we don’t, either.” 

Hubert, for his part, still thought it was impolite - both the assumption that he wouldn’t care (it was, after all, still improper to see his charge _ and _his host in skimpy pajamas) and that he wasn’t at the very least bisexual, which he figured he most likely was, since he had to awkwardly excuse himself when he walked into the bathroom and found two women washing each other’s backs in the shower. 

This was going to be a very, very long night. 

Once he’d calmed himself again, he headed to the kitchen, where one of the other ladies was making tea. He inspected the coffeemaker, figured out where the little pods were, and then got himself a mug while he waited, chatting lightly with her about the schedule in the morning. She was just this side of tipsy, and while he tried his best not to be intimidating, he could tell she was still nervous around him. 

The driver had brought his and Edelgard’s suitcases with items for the next day, and Hubert finally found an unoccupied space - the linen cupboard - to quickly change from his evening suit into a more comfortable pair of sleep-pants and a light sweater, emerging and padding across the carpeted hallway to deposit his day-things into a laundry bag and pressing it into the suitcase before going back down the stairs. 

The bride-to-be and her friends were curled on a couch, watching some sort of movie, and Hubert went back to the kitchen, washing the few items in the sink, keeping an eye out over the island to the living room, but returning when the items were dry and put away, and availing himself of the arm of the sofa when Edelgard patted it, leaning against his side. 

He’d known her since they were both small, and though their relationship should’ve been strictly professional, he _ did _have an affinity for her, almost like a younger sister. The urge to protect her was both part of his job and something he could naturally tap into, and as he gently combed out her hair, the tangles of the evening, he thought about doing the same to Ferdinand, brushing out those long cinnamon waves, after a night of dancing. He let himself get lost in the ideas of gentle domesticity, as his touches on her became more idle and she leaned more heavily, until eventually he could hear her tiny snores. 

Dorothea turned off the movie, and the few still-awake girls departed to different areas of the house. Hubert gently carried Edelgard on his hip after Dorothea, and deposited her gently in the queen bed in the room where Dorothea was putting on some night-cream. 

“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only rarely seen you smile, you know.” Dorothea said, in the quiet of the room. Only Edelgard’s deep breathing accompanied them. “I saw you smiling tonight.” 

“You must never tell a soul,” Hubert instructed her, though his tone was not serious. He saw her grin at her reflection in the dimly-lit mirror. 

“My lips are sealed, Hubie.” she turned her head, glancing at him over her shoulder. “But seriously, though. Is he really able to break through all that ice?” 

“It’s far too soon to tell.” he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Ferdinand is...unique. I am concerned I may not be enough for him. I would prefer not to invest my time and energy into a relationship that will end in a few weeks when someone else infatuates him.” 

“Hubie, darling,” Dorothea came across the room, resting a gentle hand on his bicep, kind. “Not all relationships last ‘until death do you part’, but that doesn’t make them pointless or worthless. Sometimes you start friends, then go to lovers, then go back to being friends, and that’s okay too. Or, you know, whatever. But...don’t hold back because you don’t think he’s The One. Okay?” she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Hubert grumbled. She grinned. “Now, go downstairs. Us girls need our beauty sleep.” 

Hubert turned out the lights as he made his way back to the living room, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and laying down, pulling it up to his chest. He stared at the ceiling for a while, then set his alarm for early and closed his eyes. 

The morning came with much hustle and bustle, and Hubert did his best to stay out of the way of everyone rapidly dressing and making their way to the venue. Upon arrival, he went with the groomsmen instead, leaving poor Byleth with the giggling bridesmaids and donning his better suit. He even let one of the make-up artists who was there work on his face a little, giving him a bit around the eyes and around his cheekbones, a little colour in his normally pale face. He had to admit, sitting in the stylist’s chair and letting his hair be worked on, that he didn’t look too bad, overall. 

As the time ticked by, he began to get a little nervous. Guests had begun to arrive, and Ferdinand had not yet shown up. Something cold and unpleasant settled in the bottom of his stomach, and he busied himself as much as possible with little tasks - straightening flowers, helping the groomsmen, and generally keeping his mind occupied. 

The wedding co-ordinators were calling people to their places, and Hubert had to rush over and take the arm of one of the bridesmaids. There were an uneven number in the party, so he’d been drafted a few days ago to take the part and walk her up the aisle. Getting in line and offering her his arm, she took it, careful not to get any of her make-up on his suit. Luckily he blended in quite well with the black-and-white of the other groomsmen, and the blush pink of the gown next to him was a rather nice shade. 

The music swelled, and the company began their process up the aisle. 

When it came to their turn, Hubert stepped out, keeping an even, steady pace, his eyes sweeping the crowds, searching. 

When he spotted Ferdinand, he stopped in his tracks. 

Ferdinand was _ transformed_. 

His suit was the same one they’d settled on previously, but he looked so different wearing it that Hubert was taken completely by surprise. He’d done several things with his hair - on the sides there were tiny braids with woven-in golden ribbon, matching the gold around his eyes and dappling up his temples. When he turned slightly, Hubert could see that his hair had been styled into mermaid curls, with the braids coming together over the top of them, forming a halo-like crown. 

The girl on his arm _ hauled _ him forward a few steps and Hubert jerked back into form, quickly ushering her the full way up the aisle, bowing before heading off to line up with the other groomsmen. When he had settled in his place, he looked back at Ferdinand again, and the dancer met his eyes, and smiled. 

His lips were _ pink_. 

Not so pink as to be garish or look awkward on his skin, but just pink enough for Hubert to wonder what his lipstick might taste like…

The ceremony went by in a blur of confusion, Hubert far too distracted to pay much attention, other than when one of the groomsmen took his sleeve and indicated he should be clapping. They all filed out again and into the hall area where the reception was, Hubert milling against the wall with his head back, tilted to try and get some air. 

“Hi, Hubert.” 

Hubert looked down. Ferdinand stood before him, his hands clasped at his mid-chest, his eyes shining and damp with tears, a tremblingly sad smile on his face. “O-oh, what a beautiful ceremony that was…” 

“I don’t know, I don’t remember it,” Hubert breathed, “I was too distracted by you to notice it.” 

“Oh, _ Hubie! _Don’t say things like that!” Ferdinand went red in the face, pushing lightly against him. 

Hubert grabbed his hands, moving until he was holding Ferdinand’s palms and fingers, rubbing his thumbs over the backs. He was still in his gloves, with the warmth of the dancer’s skin coming through. “It’s true, though. When I-”

“Heads up!” someone called from their right, and Hubert turned just in time to see Dorothea turning and tossing her bouquet backwards. It sailed over their joined hands, and into the hands of Edelgard, who held it triumphantly, cheering and dancing around in her heels. 

Hubert sighed, his head sinking. “Oh, traditions. I do wonder if she’ll finally decide to get married some day…” 

Ferdinand giggled, lacing his fingers with Hubert’s. Hubert looked down at him again. “Maybe. I have a feeling that no matter what, things will work themselves out.” 

“You are too optimistic by far.” 

“I think you like that about me, though.” Ferdinand pushed up on his tip-toes, and kissed Hubert’s lips gently, then pulled back. “Come on, Hubie! There’s a snacks table and I want to spoil my appetite for dinner!” 

Ferdinand remained on his arm for the rest of the afternoon, not letting go of him until they sat down for dinner. Ferdinand, much to the delight of some of the girls at their table, began feeding him, which Hubert sighed and opened his mouth for. The food was delicious and Ferdinand just looked so happy doing that…

When the lights dimmed, Hubert looked over. The bride and her new husband were having their first dance, something slow and romantic. Ferdinand seemed captivated, and Hubert took the opportunity to stuff his face with a few more bites before he could be caught. More couples began to take the floor, and Hubert stood before Ferdinand could speak up, leaning in and offering him a gloved hand. 

“It would be my honour if you would have this dance with me,” Hubert remarked softly, and Ferdinand’s smile was so dazzling it took his breath away. 

They danced quickly, they danced slowly, they danced together. Ferdinand met him step for step, knowing every move to make, leading when Hubert didn’t know a modern song, and allowing himself to be swept into waltzes when Hubert led to the more traditional pieces. As the night grew long, he leaned more and more into him, until they were just barely swaying together, slotted together like puzzle pieces, as close as they could be while still fully dressed and upright. 

The emcee announced it was the final song, and Ferdinand looked up. Hubert put a hand on his cheek. 

“You’re trembling,” he remarked. 

Ferdinand’s lips parted. 

“Take me home,” he breathed.


	7. Chapter 7

Ferdinand’s tongue was dragging wetly down his neck and he thought he was going to _ die. _

Hubert staggered down the hallway, half-carrying the other man, who had a leg up around his waist and was grinding against his hipbone. He groaned, almost stumbling, one hand going out to the wall to catch his balance. 

Ferdinand took this as an opportunity to _ bite _and Hubert’s knees gave way. 

He dropped to the carpeted hallway floor, just steps away from Ferdinand’s apartment, gasping and down on all fours, Ferdinand hanging off him. Ferdinand seemed not to care though, too busy sucking what would surely be a difficult-to-hide-in-the-morning bruise. 

“If you don’t let us get up,” Hubert panted, arms straining with the effort it took to hold them both off the floor, “you’re going to get rug burn all over your back from this hallway…” 

“Oh, _ Hubie_, what makes you think I’d be _ underneath _ you?” Ferdinand cooed, unhooking his arms from around Hubert’s shoulders and lowering his elbows to the floor. With a shocking display of core strength, he _ flipped _them, Hubert landing on his back and knocking the wind out of him. 

He stared up at the triumphant Ferdinand, who sat astride his hips, rocking back and forth, grinding down against him with a blush and a wicked grin that turned into a smirk as Hubert groped awkwardly for Ferdinand’s thighs. “Seriously, though, if we get spotted, it will be the end for _ all _of this.” 

Ferdinand pouted, but gracefully removed himself, sprinting the last few steps to the door and unlocking it. “No, don’t get up.” Ferdinand purred from the doorway. “You can crawl inside.” 

“I don’t crawl,” Hubert felt his cheeks heat up at the implication, but Ferdinand tutted and wagged a finger in the air. 

“Ah-ah-ah. I’ve been _ so _ nice and _ always _ on display for you. _ You _ should show _ me _ what you’re _ capable of_.” 

Hubert growled a little, but rolled over again, awkwardly shuffling across the carpet, the heels of his hands feeling the friction. When he was inside the apartment he sprang to his feet and pulled the door shut behind him. “_Never _make me do that again!” he hissed, but anything else he’d planned to say was stolen by Ferdinand’s soft lips in another kiss. 

Ferdinand seemed in no hurry now, so Hubert began to push their way through the apartment, trying to get through the hallway without knocking anything off the walls. It was a bit of a rough go, with Ferdinand’s hands on his back and down his pants. 

Hubert managed to get them both into the bedroom and tossed Ferdinand onto the bed. Ferdinand, for his part, laughed, giving Hubert pause as he was taking off his suit. 

“Such a _ traditionalist_, Hubie! All this way just for the bed? How romantic!” Ferdinand batted his eyelashes. 

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to stain your beautiful hardwood floors with cum?” Hubert tugged off one of his gloves with his teeth and Ferdinand turned a brilliant shade of magenta, clashing horribly with his hair. 

“Oh, my...do that again. Slower this time.” 

Hubert raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, slowly taking each finger of the other glove in his teeth and loosening it before tugging it off completely, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Oh, _ Hubie_. I might just let _ you _be on top with that show…” 

“What are you even talking about?” Hubert groaned a little, unbuttoning his shirt and trying to get out of his pants as quickly as possible. 

“You’re endearing in your awkwardness.” Ferdinand got up off the bed from where he was reclining, and smoothed his bare hands over Hubert’s chest, forcing the other man back upright, fingertips going up into his hair. “But you’re more naive than you think you are. Do you have _ any _ idea how to have sex with a man?” 

“You wanted to suck my cock pretty badly last night,” Hubert wrapped his arms around Ferdinand’s waist. If he wanted to play this game, he’d get it. “I assumed we’d at _ least _start there.” 

“So bossy,” Ferdinand giggled, but he slid down to his knees, fingers finishing opening Hubert’s pants and tugging them a little lower. “_Oh_.” 

“What now?” 

“You’re, uh, bigger than I thought.” 

Hubert had imagined he was about average, honestly. “Just how much were you thinking about my cock, anyway?” 

“To the point of distraction.” Ferdinand admitted, beginning to stroke. His hand was warm, practiced, and Hubert found himself pushing forward, thrusting into his grip. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to taste you…” he leaned his head in, kiss-swollen lips opening up to receive. 

The first breach of his mouth was so, so wet. 

Ferdinand’s tongue was rough, just a little, pushing him around in his mouth, the head of his cock vanishing between those pink lips, met with a hot slickness, moving around him. Hubert couldn’t help but moan, trying to brace himself with one hand behind him, groping for a surface until it hit a chair. 

Smiling, Ferdinand brought up a hand and delicately pushed his own hair out of his face, sweeping it aside with his ring-finger, tucking it behind his ear and tilting his head back to suck Hubert in deeper, looking up and meeting his eyes with a sultry gaze. This didn’t stop his movement, though, moving back and forth until Hubert gasped and yanked his head away, fingers tangled tightly in the hair he didn’t even realize he was gripping until Ferdinand whimpered. 

“You’re hurting me!” 

Hubert unclenched his hand, working himself free. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he managed, shaking his head and taking a few steps back. He nearly tumbled over the chair, unsure of himself. “I don’t - I don’t know.” 

“Don’t know what?” Ferdinand was still on his knees, mostly-dressed, quietly looking up at him. 

Hubert looked away. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” He glanced back at Ferdinand briefly, then sat in the chair, taking off the rest of his pants and hanging them over the back. 

Ferdinand came over, touching him lightly on the shoulders, guiding him to sit down on the bed, standing in front of him. “You’re used to always being in control, aren’t you? I bet it’s making you nervous, being so raw like this.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” Hubert griped, but Ferdinand just kissed him, slow and sweet. 

“I’m not being patronizing.” Ferdinand shook his head, flipping his hair back over his shoulders with his hands, then taking Hubert’s in his. “Here. Undress me. Take your time. Let’s go slow. I’d like if you enjoyed this.” 

“Oh, believe me - if I didn’t, I wouldn’t.” Hubert chuckled, but he did what was suggested, gently sliding Ferdinand’s jacket off, then his shirt, allowing himself to touch and explore, before working on his pants. 

When Ferdinand was finally naked again, he gently slid onto the bed beside Hubert, easing them both down until they were in the pillows together, kissing. 

He’d seen Ferdinand naked on-stage so many times, and even in his own bed like this, but this was the first time they had been naked _ together _ and the first time in _ years _he’d been naked for the purpose of having sex. Hubert wasn’t ignorant of the ways this could go.

“I wasn’t joking before, you know.” Ferdinand said, in-between kisses that were kept purposefully light and gentle. “If you want to fuck me, I’ll let you. But I’ve been _ so _excited at the prospect of watching you ride my cock…” he bit his lip, rising up on his forearms a little, looming over Hubert’s face. “I honestly can’t think about anything else.” 

Hubert smirked. “It’s a good thing, then, that I have no interest in getting fucked on my back.” The look of shock on Ferdinand’s face was all he needed before grabbing him by the biceps and flipping him over, moving so that he was straddling Ferdinand’s hips. 

Ferdinand laughed breathlessly and clapped a palm to his forehead, shaking out his curls. “Oh, Hubie! Never stop surprising me!” He half-sat, one arm behind him for support, the other exploring the smooth muscles of Hubert’s chest and a little softness against his stomach. Despite being a bodyguard, Hubert wasn’t as fit as he’d have liked to be, but he never seemed to put on much muscle mass. Ferdinand, however, seemed delighted at the contrast between them, and sat up fully to kiss him again. 

They kept kissing, and kissing him was _ so good _, but it wasn’t enough. Ferdinand kept grinding up against him, and his cock kept getting in the way. Finally, Hubert eased back and nodded off to one side. “So, how do we get this started?” 

“So eager-”

“If you continue to make fun of me,” Hubert warned, his voice dropping all frivolity, “I _ will _go sleep on the couch tonight.” 

“Oh, no, don’t do that!” Ferdinand seemed actually concerned, and shook his head quickly. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep my sass contained.” 

“See that you do.” Hubert watched as Ferdinand pulled out a small plush-looking box from the bedside table. Inside were a variety of toys, all wrapped in cloth or silky sleeves, and while Ferdinand pulled out some lubricant, Hubert grabbed something else and snuck it under the pillow for a moment. 

“Hmm.” Ferdinand seemed conflicted. “This would be easier if you were on your back or on all fours, but I know you’re not keen on that. Oh! I know. Lay down on your side, here.” Hubert followed, and they were face to face again, while Ferdinand moved a slippery hand behind him. “Come kiss me.” 

Hubert kissed, and as he kissed, he felt pushing up and in, and tried to relax. The small, intimate touches from Ferdinand’s other hand helped, and Ferdinand was highly skilled in this, clearly, because other than a bit of burn from stretch, there was absolutely no pain at all. After a few more minutes of pushing and stretching, Hubert began to feel a bit awkward. He was, after all, just laying there doing nothing. 

“I think I’m ready,” he said, trying to be delicate about it. Ferdinand huffed, pushing more deliberately, and Hubert just raised an eyebrow. 

“There’s - come on,” Ferdinand seemed upset about something. Hubert just stared at him blankly until he gave up, removing his hand and allowing Hubert up again. 

Hubert readjusted himself, straddling the dancer once again, reaching back for his cock and beginning to ease down on to it. He stopped a little in, smirking as he listened to Ferdinand hiss and whine underneath him. “No comments from you,” Hubert warned him, putting a finger on Ferdinand’s lips as he arched his back, slowly settling down the rest of the way. He felt very full, almost bloated, a bit uncomfortable, but the look on Ferdinand’s face was worth it, and while the other man was distracted, Hubert reached back under the pillows.

“Ah! What did you - oh!” 

Hubert had snapped a pair of handcuffs around Ferdinand’s wrists and cuffed him to the headboard. 

“That’s not funny! Let me out!” 

“No. I want to watch you like that.” Hubert smirked as Ferdinand squirmed unhappily, pouting, but eventually settling. 

“Fine.” he wiggled his fingers and huffed, narrowing his eyes. “I guess you’re _ still _the boss here.” 

“Marvel at my control,” Hubert put a hand to his chest, bowing a little. It changed the angle inside him and Ferdinand seized, thrusting up. It startled him a little to feel that - _ how unusual _ \- but it wasn’t _ bad_, and instead of stopping, he leaned back and started to push up and down. Within a few moments, he had Ferdinand writhing beneath him again, but the burn in his thighs was getting uncomfortable from the angle. Eventually, he had to stop, and Ferdinand _ whined_. 

“This isn’t working,” Hubert shook his head. “My legs are getting sore. How do people _ do _this?” 

“Well, normally, with a lot more enthusiasm.” Ferdinand rattled the handcuffs around the headboard. “You’ll have to let me out if you want to change positions or swap around.” 

Hubert just sighed, sliding off and sitting next to him. “Maybe...maybe this just isn’t meant to happen.” he dug around in the box of toys, looking for the key. It was on a small ring, and he unlocked Ferdinand, who sat up and began to clean up a little with one of the neatly-folded towels on another shelf. 

“You mean, sex? Honey, it’s okay if you’re not into the sex part.”

“You said you wanted to, what was it you said, ‘taste my dick in your mouth’?” 

Ferdinand laughed and blushed, shaking his head. “Hubie, it’s _ fine_, I promise. We’ll find something you like.” 

“What if I don’t..._ like _ anything?” Hubert suddenly felt his stomach go cold. For the first time since childhood, he felt _ genuine fear_. “What if it turns out I don’t like men? Or women? Or anything at all?” 

“Hubert, darling, _ no_.” Ferdinand was half-straddling him, lacing their fingers together, nuzzling his shoulder soothingly. “Don’t work yourself into a lather about that. I promise, it’s okay. There’s lots of things we can try - and even if it turns out you’re happy with just kissing - and I think you are, you seemed to be having a good time before - that’s okay too.” 

“Is...wait. Wait.” Hubert looked at him, blinking. Wheels were turning in his head. If Ferdinand truly was polyamorous, he _could _do this. He _could _have Hubert _and _have other men who could give him the sex he wanted, if it didn’t work out. Hubert could have a nice home and nice things _and Ferdinand _and also have him be happy. “Alright. I think I’m alright now.” 

Ferdinand looked so, so relieved. “Glad to hear it.” he led Hubert back down again, kissing him over and over. The gentle kisses somehow worked their way back up again, until Hubert was biting at Ferdinand’s lips and he was moaning, and Hubert grabbed at Ferdinand’s ass and _ squeezed_, pulling and kneading and _ spanking _ at the flesh there, until Ferdinand was a sobbing wreck in his arms, and _ it felt so, so good to have him lose control like that_. He was whimpering and shuddering against him, and Hubert realized they were both hard, together, and quickly pushed a hand down between them, taking them both in hand, and squeeze-stroking. The other hand he wrapped around the back of Ferdinand’s head, pulling him close, breathing into his mouth; “You’re going to come for me, and you’re going to _ scream _ for me, aren’t you?” and Ferdinand was sobbing “_Yes! Yes! _” 

It was tight, hot, and the most intense thing he’d ever felt as Ferdinand came against him, with the promised screams of pleasure, though they were mostly unintelligible. He barely noticed his own orgasm, just the release of tension, melting into the already-super-snuggly post-climax Ferdinand, who lazily grabbed the towel again and cleaned them up before tossing it aside and attaching himself to Hubert’s body like a barnacle, practically purring. 

Hubert felt much the same as before, if a little more tired now, and awkwardly pulled the blankets up before relaxing again, wrapping his arms around Ferdinand. He was so warm, and so cozy, and so comfortable like this. He cast his mind further out into the future, wondering if he would find something that worked, wondering if it would even go that far long-term…

Ferdinand murmured something and wriggled against him, grinning happily and kissing his shoulder sleepily. 

It didn’t matter. 

None of it mattered. 

None of that far-off future time mattered tonight. 

_ This_, right now, was what mattered, that he was safe, and good, and _ happy_. 

Hubert was _ happy_. 

_ That _was pretty damn good.


	8. Chapter 8

“Yee_sssss_, please don’t stop!” 

“Oh, that depends,” came the reply, “what does your husband say?” 

“I think you should break out the big flogger,” Hubert uncrossed his legs and then crossed them the other way, watching the bed from his vantage point, the comfortable overstuffed armchair they’d moved into the bedroom. He leaned his chin on his fist, elbow on the arm of the chair, smirking at the writhing Ferdinand on the bed. He was an absolute wreck, dripping with sweat and cock hanging heavy between his legs. It was a truly appetizing sight, and Hubert could feel himself getting worked up, the more he watched and listened. 

Ferdinand whined as his bed-partner, their most trusted steady third, slipped from the mattress and went to the closet. “The one with the knotted tips, or the one with the faux-fur straps?” he inquired, and Hubert shook his head. 

“Take the fur. We have a long flight tomorrow and I don’t want him to have any _ actual _cuts on his ass.” 

“Fair point.” Lorenz returned to the bed, kneeling behind Ferdinand, trailing the tips of the flogger back and forth across the already-reddened cheeks. “Oh, he’s _ so _ lovely from this angle, you _ really _should come over here and take a look.” 

“Oh, fine. If you insist,” Hubert rose from the chair, stretching, and padded across the room, leaning over the bed. Lorenz shifted, gesturing, and Hubert began to inspect Ferdinand’s whimpering form like he was appraising a prize animal at a fair. “Hmm. You may be right. Look at this.” he slapped, then squeezed, a firm cheek. Ferdinand pushed up, arching his back and trying to get more attention. “Good colour in him today.” 

“He’s been behaving himself,” Lorenz nodded, taking a moment to re-tie his hair back and out of the way. The length of it kept getting in his eyes. “But of course, any treat or reward he’s earned is your decision.” 

Hubert nodded, then glanced up at his husband’s head, currently face-down in the pillows. “Oh, that’s no good. He’s going to get drool all over the nice linens.” 

Lorenz tutted. “Can’t have that. It would be a shame.” 

“I’ll just have to keep him...otherwise occupied.” Hubert smirked, rising and moving to the side of the bed again, turning Ferdinand so he was crossways, pulling him in by his hair. By now, though, he’d learned _ exactly _ how to grip and tug so that it made Ferdinand _ whine _with pleasure instead of pain. Well, perhaps both. “Open up.” 

Without any further bidding, Ferdinand pushed forward, effortlessly taking in Hubert’s cock to the root. The sensation of being swallowed whole sent a ripple of hot, electric pleasure up Hubert’s spine, shivering as he thrust forward, watching Ferdinand’s lips spread obscenely wide around him. Their pinkness seemed less full when they were stretched around the girth of his cock, the head of him somewhere in the back of Ferdinand’s throat, feeling the convulsions as he swallowed repeatedly to keep himself from gagging as he adjusted to the size. It was so, _ so _ good, so hot and tight and _ wet _, slippery, and it took a lot of effort not to start pounding into his face. 

“Everyone ready up there?” Lorenz called, standing on the other side of the bed. He was carefully, clinically inspecting everything, outside of the scene, making sure Ferdinand wasn’t in an unsafe position. Ferdinand, however, gave the positive sign he was looking for, and Hubert saw as Lorenz visibly relaxed, smiling and reaching for the flogger again. “Now then. Resuming. Oh, and I don’t think I need to tell you this, but of course - no teeth.” He trailed the flogger back and forth across Ferdinand’s ass before giving him a few light _ whaps_, testing the threshold. 

Each jerk and twist of his husband’s body before him made Hubert seize with pleasure, panting, watching him squirm, feeling the change in pressure on his cock. Ferdinand was sucking at him as much as he could in-between puffs to catch his breath, coming up for air but never fully releasing him. Hubert marveled at the way Ferdinand’s hair slipped through his fingers, tightening his grip and _ thrusting _once or twice, watching as Ferdinand did his best to keep up while also having his ass whipped. 

From the other side of the bed, Lorenz picked up the pace and strength, making Ferdinand cry out louder, though it was muffled around the girthy flesh in his mouth, gurgling noises as his throat convulsed. Hubert couldn’t help but thrust instinctively into that pressure, grunting as it pushed him higher, unable to stop himself from fucking his husband’s delicious mouth, both hands in his hair, now, holding his head in place, tilting it back a bit so he could see Ferdinand’s face. 

Ferdinand looked absolutely wild, tears running down his cheeks but his face was full of unabashed pleasure, moving as Hubert guided him, still sucking, still swallowing and licking, his soft tongue sliding up the side before retreating, pushing at the slit and making Hubert shudder, his knees weak at the feeling. This was the focus he needed, his entire world reduced to the sight in front of him of Ferdinand worshipping his cock, and he came _ hard _and quickly, pulsing down his husband’s throat and clutching at him, weak and desperate. 

Ferdinand choked a bit, struggling with the volume, but managed to keep swallowing, since he was partially there, anyway. Hubert was only vaguely aware of Lorenz, suddenly behind him, murmuring something, strong hands on his biceps, keeping him steady through the moment of dizzy haze at the tail end of his orgasm. He swayed, but Lorenz managed to keep him upright until he was done, before helping him sit down on the bed. “Easy. Easy now.”

Ferdinand was crying again, still shaking on his hands and knees. Lorenz looked at him calmly, fondly, as though at a favoured pet. “You may finish yourself off,” he said with a smile, settling beside where Hubert lay, relaxing and recovering. 

Hubert watched as Ferdinand quickly got up onto his knees, jacking off frantically, hand stripping up and down his cock so quickly it was almost a blur. He came with a choked cry all over Hubert’s stomach, and then leaned down to clean it up, still shaking and trembling. 

Hubert pulled him up when he’d finished, holding Ferdinand to him while Lorenz hummed and stroked Ferdinand’s hair, checking him for bad cuts. “You’re all fine,” he said with a bright smile, leaning back against the headboard. “Did you want me to head home in a bit?”

“Actually,” Ferdinand wheezed, eyes still closed from exhaustion. “We were hoping you’d stay for dinner.”

“You mean, you were hoping I’d _ stay _and _make _dinner,” Lorenz rolled his eyes with a hum of amusement. 

“Same thing!”

“Why don’t I just order in; does Vietnamese sound good?”

“Delicious. Thank you,” Hubert put forward, a hand up to Lorenz, who took it and squeezed reassuringly. 

“You two cool off in here and I’ll go call the restaurant. Don’t bother getting dressed unless you plan on answering the door.” Lorenz chuckled to himself, then slid from the bed and padded off down the hallway. 

Ferdinand rolled over, resting an arm on Hubert’s chest. Hubert looked down at him. “Hmm?”

“I’m so happy you proposed to me.” Ferdinand admired his wedding ring, now eight months solidly in place, with a happy hum, grinning so much his nose wrinkled. 

“I’m so happy you said _ yes_,” Hubert replied, amused, reaching his left hand over and linking their fingers together. “I had my doubts, honestly. I never thought I could be what you needed.”

Ferdinand wrinkled his nose, this time in displeasure. “Hubie, darling, we’d been dating for over a year at that point. If there had been _ any _ doubt, it was _ long _ gone from _ my _mind.”

“Hmm-mm.” Hubert leaned in and kissed him, then a few more times, and then sat up. “Let’s wash up before dinner.”

“Tell me you love me?”

“I love you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! How I Met Your Dominant.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Ferdinand had said, and Hubert entered the restaurant, taking off his sunglasses. The July heat was oppressive, and he was sweating through his shirt. Politely shaking his head at the waitress, he looked around the floor. 

In a booth by the back corner, a curtain of red hair stuck its hand out and waved at him, and Hubert went over, looking at the pair sitting there. 

Opposite Ferdinand was a young man, perhaps about their age, with stylized purple hair - tucked on one side, loose on the other. His eyes were a vivid shade of blue-violet and he was leaning on his arm, chin in hand. When Ferdinand half-stood, introducing Hubert breathlessly, the young man looked up and nodded politely. 

“Honey, this is Lorenz.” 

“Ah.” 

Lorenz arched an eyebrow, meeting Hubert’s gaze. Frustrated at yet _ another _person who showed no fear, Hubert sat down next to Ferdinand on the bench booth, growling a little. 

“No need for that,” Lorenz wagged a finger in the air. “I assure you, once you get to know me, you’ll like me.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Hubert leaned back, taking the menu Ferdinand offered him. He settled quickly on a dish and then began to scrutinize Lorenz. “Are you one of Ferdinand’s...co-workers? Clients?”

“None of the above.” Lorenz shook his head. “He’s one of _ my _former clients.” 

“Oh.” Hubert paused. “Continue.” 

“I suppose you could call us cousin-colleagues, since we’re both in the industry,” he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. “But mine is much more hands-off.”

“Hardly,” Ferdinand’s cheeks were pink as he stared across the table. “You’re very attentive.” 

“Mm-mm, only during the aftercare.” he sipped his drink, pushing the lemon wedge around with the straw. “Other than that, I have a strict policy, no touching my clients with my hands until after orgasm.” 

Hubert could hardly believe his ears. Ferdinand was a blushing, squirming mess beside him, while this...Lorenz...some sort of other sex-worker? Sat coolly opposite them, talking about his career in the lunch hour of this restaurant. “How is one both a sex worker and hands-off?” he looked at Ferdinand. “Another dancer? But this time, _ just _dancing?” 

“I’m a professional dominant.” Lorenz gestured, producing a business card and presenting it to Hubert, who took it and inspected it carefully. “I see men and women, and couples.” 

_ Couples_. It lit up in his brain, and he whipped his head over to Ferdinand. “Are you hiring him...for us?” his mouth was dry. 

“Not hiring!” Ferdinand and Lorenz both sat forward at the same time - Ferdinand still blushing, but Lorenz completely calm, if a little more serious. Lorenz cleared his throat and Ferdinand leaned back, sagging a little against Hubert. “No. He approached me last week and asked if I would be interested in being part of your relationship. Namely, the sexual part, though I wouldn’t be averse to more, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

“I’m going to need...some time.” Hubert felt cold, distant from his own skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the waitress coming over, and forced himself to be calm and collected enough to place his order, along with the others. She departed, and he watched as Lorenz tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “What I don’t see is...you’re really a dominant? But you look so…”

“I also sleep with women, and enjoy it,” Lorenz sipped his water again, meeting Hubert gaze for gaze. “I look and dress this way because _ I _ like it. You, my friend, fall _ far _too easily for stereotypes. You’re a poor judge of character.” 

Hubert quashed his rising irritation and crossed his arms, leaning back against the seat cushion. “So...you’re interested in having regular threesomes with us, it seems?” 

“Not exactly. Ferdinand has mentioned you’re slow to warm up, and in general don’t seem very interested.” Lorenz was talking quietly enough to not be overheard, but Hubert still felt odd discussing his sex life in a public place. “My role would be to serve both as a dominant and possibly even to act as your hands during a scene.” 

“So your hands-off policy wouldn’t apply?” Hubert couldn’t help but smirk, and Lorenz chuckled. 

“Only by request.” he smiled. “Overall, I would be present in your lives to help facilitate the sexual part of your relationship. It would be nice to be more than that, but the boundaries would be set by you.”

“Just to be clear,” Hubert turned to look at Ferdinand, who was snuggled against his side, one arm looped through his, “this isn’t a segue from me to him, is it? We’re not breaking up.” 

“Oh, no!” Ferdinand shook his head, his hair flying everywhere wildly. “No, no, no! Certainly not! Hubert, darling, I _ love _ you! But I just…” he lowered his gaze, cheeks flushed again. “I’m not...you can’t give me what I need, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to the point of resentment. I trust Lorenz, I’ve known him for years, we’ve been friends for a long time now and it’s _ literally _his job to be discreet.” 

“Is that why we’re discussing our sex life in a restaurant?” 

“So that you could walk away at any time and not feel unsafe.” Lorenz finished his water and poured another glass from the pitcher as the waitress came back with their appetizers. He waited until she had left, then continued. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you, but you have nothing to fear from me. I promise you.” 

Hubert looked down at his food, silently contemplating, then picked up his fork. “Are you free to come over tonight?” 

At precisely seven pm that night, the doorbell rang. 

At seven-oh-five, Hubert was on his knees on the bed, hands neatly cinched behind his back, his mouth covered, and Ferdinand was on his hands and knees in front of him, with Lorenz already three fingers deep inside of him. 

It was a glorious sight and Hubert was dizzy. Watching Ferdinand get so thoroughly fucked out like this, while Hubert couldn’t touch him? Did crazy things to him that he hadn’t even imagined were possible. Lorenz was speaking in a voice that was low, calm, soothing, and utterly captivating, with firm hands on Ferdinand’s body. 

Ferdinand was sobbing, but hadn’t used the “safe word” that Lorenz had made him repeat before trussing him up. Hubert had been gagged, so instead of a word, he had a buzzer on his inner wrist that he could push. He kept his thumb away from it as he watched Lorenz taking Ferdinand apart. 

His boyfriend was drooling, arms splayed out as Lorenz added a fourth finger, still using that calm voice to narrate what he was doing and to give instructions, bringing into the picture an absolutely massive toy, rubbing it along the cleft of Ferdinand’s ass, up and down. Hubert watched, rapt, as Lorenz slowly pushed it in, rubbing Ferdinand’s back soothingly as the redhead bucked and whined and cried. 

Hubert realized he was crying as well, tears running down his cheeks at the sight of him split wide open, Ferdinand taking the enormous toy and delirious with pleasure as he was fucked hard, his entire body shaking and buckling under its weight. 

“Now. You’re going to sit up and fuck yourself on that toy. Do you understand me?” Lorenz was moving away from Ferdinand, who nodded, still hiccoughing with sobs, as he leaned back, sitting on the toy, beginning to ride it up and down, shuddering. “Good. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Lorenz came over, resting beside where Hubert knelt on the bed, facing Ferdinand. 

Hubert nodded jerkily, and when Lorenz began to touch him, he found it surprisingly not as bad as he’d thought. His touch was firm, but he wasn’t nearly as cruel as he was with Ferdinand. “Do you want to touch him?” 

Hubert paused, considering, then shook his head. Lorenz made an amused noise, then continued: “Do you want _ me _to keep touching him?” 

Hubert lowered his head. 

Lorenz stroked his cheek tenderly, then went to Ferdinand and began caressing him, drawing Hubert’s attention back. “Look at me.” he said calmly. 

And then he put his hand around Ferdinand’s throat. 

Ferdinand came with a choked noise, and Hubert watched him, stunned. As Ferdinand slumped over, shaking, wrecked and limp, Lorenz came back and slid a hand up Hubert’s chest. Slim, yet strong fingers spread around the base of his neck and applied pressure, and the dizziness from before came back, the lack of oxygen making him wonder if he should press his buzzer and make it stop. 

Then, Lorenz put his hand on Hubert’s cock, and it was all over. The next thing he knew, he was being cuddled and snuggled between the two men, the bindings and gag gone, and Ferdinand was kissing him and stroking him and telling him how good it was, how wonderful he’d been, and he could feel Lorenz behind him, calming and soothing as ever, checking him and reassuring him. Hubert couldn’t stop the shaking, but when Lorenz pulled up the blankets and Ferdinand huddled to his front, the warmth seemed to help him re-focus, finally allowing him to speak. 

“I think...we could do that again.”


End file.
